Love? Pain
by Cheryl Brink
Summary: Sherlock is taken with a girl he hasn't even met, and hopes he can find again. When his worst enemy is brought in to the mix, things get much worse. Sherlock x OC ; Johnlock friendship (sorry! I ship it!)
1. Prolouge

_Hello! I'm glad you considered reading this story! This Prolouge as well as first chapter are short, and I'm fixing that for later chapters. I appreciate reviews and they keep me going. Thank you!_

"What are we doing here Sherlock, no, seriously, what?" John said, still chuckling with Sherlock. "No idea." He replied, smile still broad on his face."Here to see the Queen?" John asked. Mycroft, with a man quickly behind him, entered. "Oh, apparently yes." A feminine voice, American accent, to the right of them answered. Laughter filled the room by Sherlock and John along with female chuckles, and Mycroft immediately stiffened at the sight of her. This did not escape Sherlock's notice, and he turned his head to observe whomever could elicit such a response from his older brother.

He caught her hair first, dirty blonde easily mistaken as caramel, but only to idiots. Her hair was longer than shoulder height, but not by much. She's faced toward the window, face obscured from view. She has a large trenchcoat on, similar to those he usually wear, but a bit lighter, sleeker. What disturbed him however, is he looked at her, and his mind displayed question marks. He couldn't deduce a single thing about her."I'll be back shortly." Mycroft said, the man taking a seat on opposite of them. Mycroft stiffly walked toward the woman, and they walked down the hallway.

The man on the couch started going on about a Ms. Adler, and photographs, but's Sherlock's mind was with Mycroft and the woman. He was intrigued by her, the only person whom he hasn't been able to deduce. She was intriguing, she was rare, she... sparked an interest that hasn't been lit before. Mycroft strolled in as if he hadn't been talking to a woman that peaked Sherlock's curiosity, and took a seat next to the man whose name he couldn't care less. "Who was that woman, Mycroft?" Sherlock said, interrupting the man beside his brother. Mycroft pursed his lips,"I haven't a clue what you're talking about younger brother." Sherlock narrowed his eyes,"What I'm talking about, _older brother,_ is the woman that you stopped business at _Buckingham Palace_ to talk to and are now trying to act like she doesn't exist." Mycroft, deliberately turning toward his brother, brows raised, and unwavering eye contact, said,"That is _none of your business. _Of all the times I've begged you to listen to me, I urge you to listen. This is absolutely _none of your concern._"

Sherlock told the man he had no interest in Ms. Adler, and left with John in tow.

Mycroft wanted to play that game,

then,

The game is on.


	2. Chapter 1

Boring.

Boring.

Boring.

Why do people have to be so boring? Sherlock asked himself as yet another dull person droned on about a case Sherlock solved right when the dull man walked through the door.

Some people aren't boring. A part of him said.

Shut up, most of the masses are dull. Those who aren't are just on the cusp of boring. Another part, the more dominant part, of him answered.

"Your wife has been cheating on you with a slew of men, some including your best friend, brother, and gardener. Goodbye." Sherlock said, and jumped up without another word to the stuttering, dull man. Nothing interesting had come lately.

Except for that woman. Both parts of him said.

That Woman. He hadn't been able to find her, or anything about her. Mycroft isn't budging on his stance, but neither is Sherlock. Who is she? He asked himself, again and again.

"I'm going out John!" Sherlock shouted as he hurried out the door. He would refuse to back down on this subject. Who would elicit such an emotion from his brother? Who indeed.

He got to Mycroft's quickly, usual trench coat flowing slightly as he walk a brisk, stern pace. He walked down the hall, and as he was about to tear the doors open and demand an answer, it opened before him to the woman who was speaking to Mycroft while turned toward Sherlock,"-besides Mycroft, Sherlock has some questions. Best to spend time with your younger sibling. Time is precious between family."

Sherlock didn't move from in front of the woman, he didn't even breathe. He was, clichély, lost in her eyes. Bright, and dark hues of blues, greens, and hazels battled each other with no clear victor, always moving and changing. Medium length lashes, a petite nose, and soft pink lips with the corners raised slightly. He noticed that they were centimeters away from each other, and color rose in his cheeks, along with a pull of attraction that he'd never experienced before. He knew it was exactly that because she started leaning forward, and just as her soft, pink lips were going to grace his, she made a smooth and slow detour to his ear.

"Nice to see you Sherlock." She said, the hot air escaping and making him shiver slightly. "I'd love to chat, but I've got a plane to catch." Her body faintly touched his as she slipped away, him to much of a daze to notice. He snapped out of it quickly, and yelled down the hall,"What's your name?" She twirled gracefully around and gave him a smile that made his insides twirl, and went out the front door.

"Brother dear, why are you here?" Mycroft said, calmly. Sherlock's brow furrowed while still having his back to his brother. He didn't answer as he walked straight out the door, hoping to find her again. Such feeling arose in him that he wasn't sure what to do with them. He had a strong feeling she would know.

ASDFGHJKL

Hello...

Reviews maybe?


	3. Chapter 2

"Boring, easily solved." Sherlock snapped at John. John set down his papers, sighed, and scratched the back of his head. "Sherlock," John began, suddenly sounding very tired,"I know you are still feeling sad and angry over not finding that woman, but it's been two months. You have to let it go."

Sherlock huffed. "My mood is perfectly normal, nothing has changed with or because of that woman. I am merely irritated with Mycroft." John chuckled, Sherlock raising the something funny? eyebrow. "It's just," John said, still chuckling,"you'realways annoyed at Mycroft. Right now, you're extremely annoyed that he won't budge on information about her. The woman you've fallen for yet don't even know her name!" The chuckles went to full on laughter at Sherlock then sputtering.

Sherlock pursed his lips and continued sulking on the couch. An incessant ringing filled the room, and when Sherlock made no move to get it, John sighed, grabbed Sherlock's phone, and answered. "Hello Greg." John greeted. The muffled voice of Lestrade came through, and John replied,"You caught him? We'll come down immediately." John put down the phone. "The serial killer that took people and cut out their hearts, Lestrade's men caught him.". Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows," Lestrade's men?" In disbelief.

Sherlock and John stared through the one-sided window at the police station. On the other side, a thin, slightly balding man with glasses sat, not anxious and simply relaxed. "And you say he was jumping out of his skin before he made his phone call?" Sherlock said with furrowed brow. Lestrade nodded, bewildered at the now confident man behind the glass. "Who was the call to?" John asked, confused as much as both of the others. "No one. He dialed an unused number."

Everyone stood quietly until Sherlock said,"Phone call aside he's your serial killer alright. How did you find him?" Lestrade shook his head slightly, and said," A call from up high told us. I don't have the clearance to know." John looked surprised, but Sherlock knew that Lestrade's men couldn't have found a man this careful. The question however, is who did?

A head popped in, one of Lestrade's men and told him that the serial killer's lawyer arrived. Lestrade nodded, and the door opened. Sherlock was facing Lestrade and spoke," Why is the up high dropping you hints about serial killers? That doesn't seem like-" Sherlock stopped mid-sentence while turning to the man in question. Sherlock stared right through through the window to the woman he'd been lurking about for two months sitting in the room next to him.

"Sherlock?" A worried John questioned. "It's her." Sherlock mumbled, half to himself, half to the worried men beside him. John took a look of surprise, and everyone looked at the people. They were mid-conversation, but the trio of men couldn't hear what they were saying. The man was steadily becoming less and less calm, and she was sporting a look that was blank, emotionless.

She retorted something quietly and moved to open the door. "You can't do this! You said if I was in trouble you would help me!" He said. She turned away from the door, eyes burning, storming, and altogether deadly as she stalked toward him, the mere presence of her making him fear his life as he backed against the wall. She came very close to him, and said words that made emotions flurry across his face. She made some kind of point that looked like it physically struck him. She walked out the door, and he slid down the wall, dazed.

"I confess, I killed those people." He shouted, closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the wall. Sherlock could care less about the man, he ran straight out the door to find her. She can't be gone, not again. She can't just breeze in and out my life again. He ran through the station, burst through the doors, and stopped at the loss of sight of her. Sorrow filled him, and he grieved that he'd lost her again. "Looking for me?" A voice to his side said. He looked over to see her standing there, and joy filled his very core.

She stood there with a slight smile on her face, causing him to smile a little. He moved toward her, centimeters between them. "Who are you?" Sherlock asked, eyes questioning. She smiled fully, eyes a soft sea contrasting the dark storm from earlier. "Why are you trying to find me?" She questioned. " In this case, I can't find a rose as sweet." She laughed, better than any music he's ever played, and he wished she could laugh forever."You had to pick apart that quote." She said, still chuckling. Sherlock unconsciously moved forward leaving less than 10 centimeters between them.

"Rose." She said. Sherlock's soft eyes questioned her, head slightly cocked to the side. "My name." She clarified, "I do believe that incredible luck in finding that quote means you've earned it." Sherlock's face was unnaturally soft, looking at her delicately like she was a fragile, precious rose. She spoke, her voice soft,"I have to get going." She made to move down the steps, but he put his hand on hers, lightly but stopping her. "Do you have to go?" Sadness breaking through his voice. Her smile fell a bit,"I do, plane ride." Sherlock looked down, trying to mask his sadness.

Silence fell between them, not uncomfortable but sad. "I be back two weeks from today." Rose said, softer than the lightest hue of pink. Sherlock looked up with sad joy in his eyes. "Pay me a visit then?" Sherlock said equally as soft. She smiled and nodded. A taxi came up, hers. She gave a sad smile. "Until then."

She walked in the cab, and closed the door. Sherlock looked at her as she peered out of the window. Both smiling. As she drove off, that smile began to crumble, and he slid back into his cold shell. Who needs her anyway. The dominant, hard part of him said. We do. The soft part of him said, and for once, he agreed.


End file.
